No Reason
by DagnyShrugged
Summary: Follow-up to 3.13 - Once Cal admits how he feels out loud, he realizes he should do something. Slight spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

In my perfect Lie to Me world, what happens after 3.13 Killer App. A girl can dream.

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He wasn't lying when he told Emily he didn't have an answer. But it was his lack of knowing that made him think he should do something. Because if he was never going to have an answer to what kept him from telling her, then he could stall until forever. And Cal Lightman wasn't the kind of man who waited patiently. He pushed. And prodded. Until he got what he wanted. And saying it out loud—admitting it to someone other than himself—made it all the more real.

So that must be why he's standing outside of her door right now. And he wills himself to knock. Before he puts any more thought into it.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, and rolls his eyes at how effeminate he feels right now for having waited this long, and for not taking action sooner, and because his palms are sweating. And he's never been the nervous type.

But then she opens the door, and though he's nervous, she always makes him feel—at ease. Comfortable. And loved.

"Cal," she says slowly and softly with a lopsided smirk on her lips. Because he's always up to something. Especially when he shows up at her doorstep well past dinner time.

She knows she can't question him. Otherwise, he won't tell her the reason he's here. He's like a teenager in that sense. Withholding information that he was about to share only because you asked before he could tell you.

So instead, she holds the door open wider and he walks inside.

As he's taking his coat off and hanging it by the door, Gillian walks to the kitchen. When he meets her there, she hands him a wine glass and takes a sip from her own. And now he can't help but look into her eyes and give her a lopsided grin, because he knows what she's doing. She's not going to ask. She learned that years ago. But that doesn't mean she can't try to speed up the process with alcohol.

He drinks half his glass in one sizeable gulp and then puts the glass on the counter. Then he plants both palms on her counter, arms perfectly straight, shoulders hunched, and scrutinizes her. But she used to it. So she looks him in the eye from the other side of the counter as she sips her wine. She's already on her second glass. She had her first with dinner. Because sometimes, whatever he's come to do or say is easier for her with alcohol too.

As she's in the middle of a sip though, he finds the courage to speak. But she doesn't know that courage is what has kept him from speaking for this long already.

"A few weeks ago…" he says with his hands flailing as he's talking, "when you said maybe I didn't try hard enough…" and he realizes he's not sure how he wants to finish the sentence. _Great_, he thinks, _you've been standing here for five minutes and can't even form one coherent bloody sentence? _ But then he recovers with, "well, how serious were you?"

And even though he thinks he's pulled that off as a pretty casual question—or as casual as a question like that can be—she knows he's being serious. And senses that something substantial is about to happen. Especially because she knows exactly what he's talking about right away.

But she's not sure how to answer. Because they're never been serious about this. About them. Yes, they're always there for each other. But when it comes to anything beyond friendship, it's always ends as a joke. And she realizes that she doesn't want to joke anymore either. So she lifts her gaze that she had lowered to the counter top to give herself some time to think, and she looks him in the eye, and he doesn't need her to speak know her answer. An unspoken, "Completely serious," registers between them.

Now he has his confidence back. So he downs the rest of his wine, mostly for show, because he knows she'll smile and roll her eyes, and then he walks around the countertop to where she's standing.

Once he's standing right in front of her, he takes both her hands in his and says "because I was just thinking love, that we should go out to dinner tomorrow night. The kind of dinner where, I ring the doorbell around, let's say, 7pm? And I'm wearing a suit, and I've got flowers in my hand. Your favorite, of course."

"Oh, of course," she interjects amusedly.

But he's not nearly done yet.

"And when you open the door, I can barely breathe because your wearing this stunning dress, and I open the car door for you, and take you to a restaurant that has overpriced food and tiny portions, and—"

"And many chocolate dessert options," she chimes in with a smile. The one he knows so well on her that she reserves for times when she's thinking about the kind of sugar fantasies only a seven-year-old would dream of.

"Sure, sure, lots of chocolate, stop interrupting, I'm trying to ask you something important here," he says with a hint of exasperation in his tone.

And in the most serious voice she can muster for him, she replies, "Sorry, please continue."

"Right, overpriced food, tiny portions, chocolate desserts, and somewhere during the night I do something that surprises you, but makes you feel utterly blissful, and it's also the kind of night where I walk you to your door and wait for you to tell me what comes next, because I have no bloody clue." And when he's silent for a moment, she thinks he's finished.

So she raises an eyebrow and asks, "Done?"

"No, actually, almost though," and he pauses for a beat before he asks, "Gillian, will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

And she knows that by saying yes everything will change. But since she never thought either of them would break the holding pattern they were stuck in, she can't help but say, "yes."

And he leans in and kisses her on the cheek, then drops her hands as he pulls away and turns around towards her front door. When he's a few steps away he calls over his shoulder, "I'll be here at seven. And don't do that girly thing where I say seven, but you're not ready until seven-thirty."

She can barely stop herself from laughing out loud as she says, "Cal, I'm the punctual one, remember?"

And he grabs his coat from the hanger, puts it on, turns to her, and gives her his classic up-to-no-good Cal Lightman smile before he says, "Night love. See you tomorrow," and walks out the door.

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Reviews make me feel like people are actually reading what I write :) * Hint Hint * I may write another chapter or two, not sure yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

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The next day she's nervous. She's had time to think and she wonders what the hell they're doing. There are so many different aspects of their relationship that they should take into consideration before they do something like this. But she's already said yes. And backing out now would only crush him. And, she doesn't really want to back out anyways. She may be nervous. But she can't lie to herself anymore about her want for him. Not when they've put it out there already. So she continues to get ready for their date.

An hour before he supposed to be there, she's standing in front of her closet wondering if he's having as much trouble deciding what to wear as she is. She has plenty of dresses to pick from, but he's seen most of them on her already. She shifts the clothes around in her closet and her eyes finally settle on her blue satin strapless dress. And once she decides on the dress, she's feeling more confident. But she still wonders how he's doing. So she retrieves her cell phone and snaps a picture then sends it to Cal.

His phone buzzes as he's glaring into his closet and he thinks, _thank god, I can't stare into this bloody thing anymore_. When he opens his phone he sees that he has a picture message from Gillian. He wonder's if the picture was a mistake, because all he sees is a vibrant dark blue color, but then he reads the message that goes with it. _ If you're having as much trouble deciding what to wear as I was, then you should wear the tie that I know you have in this color. See you in an hour_.

And he thinks, _taking her out on a date seems silly if she's reading my mind when we're not even in the same place_. But he knows how important tonight is.

Then he has an idea. And he quickly sends a message back to her.

She isn't expecting a response, so when her phone buzzes she's curious. She opens Cal's message and reads _just the tie, darling_? And smiles at how clever he must think he is.

But an hour later, when her doorbell rings and she opens the door, he's wearing the tie. And he looks amazing in his charcoal grey suit, with a white shirt, and his dark blue tie that matches her dress.

She's about to tell him just how good he looks when he beats her to it and says, "Gillian, you look beautiful love," in the most heartfelt tone he's sure he's ever heard come out of his mouth. "Here," he says, and he pulls a bouquet of light pink roses out from behind his back. And they are her favorite, just like he said they would be. She finds herself struggling with not getting choked up by the moment. She takes the flowers from him and walks off towards the kitchen to put them in some water before they leave.

As they're walking out the door she grabs his arm so he turns to her and she says, "You know, you look incredibly handsome tonight."

And she's sincere when she says it, knowing Cal though, he'll let it go to his head. But he surprises her when he says, "You know, I had some help from two very smart women. Otherwise, I might of walked out of the house in my underwear I was so nervous."

Gillian looks at him with an awed expression, not for being honest with her, since he usually is, but because she can't believe that he has ever felt nervous about something. He walks into every situation as the most confident person in the room. And she admires that in him. And he seemed it tonight when she opened the door.

She smiles shyly at him and says, "I'm nervous too."

Then he loops her arms through his and turns back towards her front door. He walks her to the car, opens her door for her, then climbs in on his side. The small gesture is enough to make her feel delightfully spoiled.

When they walk into the restaurant she's surprised. Because there's a dance floor in the middle with a brass band playing. She looks at him with a raised eyebrow as if asking _you're going to dance_? But he just smiles at her and gives his name to the hostess. He did tell her there would be a surprise during the night. She's pulled from her thoughts when Cal grabs her hand because the hostess is taking them to their seats. And she's charmed and surprised—again—because their table is a small circular booth. It's intimate, and dark, and she looks at him with amazement because he couldn't be doing anything but hitting this date out of the park right now, and it had barley even begun.

So they sit, and the circular booth allows them to be as close or as far apart from each other as they like. But Gillian immediately slides closer towards the middle, so Cal does the same. There's still some space between them, but he's close enough to drape his arm around her if he wanted to. And he does want to, of course, but he'll wait a little while.

Their waiter comes over, introduces himself, and hands them a wine list promising to come back in a few minutes to take their drink order. Cal opens the menu and holds it so both he and Gillian can look at it together. They debate about what they should get, but when the waiter comes back, they've decided on the bottle of red wine that they'd like.

Once the wine is on the table, and the waiter has left, and they've each taken a large gulp from their respective glasses, Gillian takes time to inhale and then turns to Cal.

"Cal," she says in a nervous breathe, "what got us here tonight?"

And he knows why she's nervous. Because there are so many possible answers to this question in her mind. And he knows she's not sure how much she's ready to hear. But in a moment of lucidity, he decides he knows how much to tell her.

"Emily, actually." And he sees the surprise flash across her face. But then he sees understanding. Because even though he's stubborn, Emily ends up being his voice of reason eventually. And before she can ask him to elaborate, he says, "But, you and I aren't ready to have the conversation that Emily and I did that got us here. Does that make sense?"

"Yes. For now."

He's relieved that she trusts him, because he hasn't explained much. And even though he knows he could leave it at that, there are other thoughts that he needs to put out there for them.

"Look Gill, we used to have this line between us. And we had good reason for it. Because, me and you, we can see things that almost no one else can. And we have practice at interpreting what we're seeing, and knowing the meaning behind it that others wouldn't. And we needed our personal lives to be separate from our work lives. We did it because we both frighteningly acknowledged to ourselves what could be here, and because we needed it not to be, for the sake of the people we used to be and the relationships we used to have. But now it's just me and you. And I'm sure we could make up reasons to keep a line between us, but the reasons we put it in place to start are gone from our lives now. There doesn't have to be something separating us if we don't want there to be. Am I making any sense darling?"

"Yes Cal."

"Good. You know how much I love being the center of attention and all, but it seems like I'm not letting you get a word in edgewise."

And she looked at him out of the corner of hey eye and smiled before she said, "It's okay. I like being the listener. And besides, you hear what I'm saying without me having to say it." And she slid her hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze to let him know she was right there with him. And they were doing great. And she was happy.

When she looked at him, he could see the excitement in her eyes, but it wasn't about them anymore. She let go of his hand, picked up the menus, and handed one to him. With pure delight in her voice she said, "I can't wait to pick out my overly priced and undersized meal!" And he looked at her like she was crazy until she said, "your words, not mine" and raised her hands in a _hey, it wasn't me_, type of gesture before continuing, "Come on Cal, I'm sure the food is unbelievable, will leave you feeling full, and will be well-worth the cost."

So he picked up his menu and glanced over his options.

"Bet you I know what you're going to order love," he said with a sly grin.

She peeked at him for a brief second over the top of her menu with a suspicious gaze and then stated, "I may be predictable when it comes to dessert, but there's no way you know what I'm in the mood for right now."

He waited for her to look up at him, because his lack of comeback undoubtedly would draw her attention to him. But that was what he wanted. And when she did look up with a curious expression on her face, he looked her dead in the eye and licked his lips when he said, "Guess what I'm in the mood for."

The double meaning was not lost on her, and she blushed and looked back down at her choices. But Cal still wanted to win this game, so he continued, "No, seriously, I know I can guess what you'll order."

"No, you can't."

"Yes, I can."

"Cal, you're being a child."

"A child who's about to impress you with his mind reading abilities by correctly picking out what you're ordering for dinner."

With an exasperated sigh she replied, "Fine," and dug through her purse until she pulled out a pen and paper. Then she ripped the paper in half and handed one of the halves to him and said, "I'll write down what I'm ordering, and you write down what you're ordering. That way we can't change our answers once the other person guesses."

His smile spread across his entire face because she was the only person who would indulge his childish behavior once in a while. He wrote down what he was ordering, folded it, and passed it to her. And she did the same.

He looked like he could barely contain his excitement. Like he would shoot out of his seat any moment.

"Alright, ladies first."

And she squinted and stared at him hard, then looked down at the open menu in front of her, then back up at him.

He saw that she'd reached her decision.

"Okay," she said matter-of-factly, "you're going to order half a dozen oysters to start, and… hmm. It doesn't seem fair. There are about twelve different meat options."

"Oh, so you think I'll go with red meat for my meal?"

She looked at him like she knew what he was up to. Definitely trying to confuse her.

"Yes, you're going to order the… marinated Cajun rib eye," she stated with confidence.

He smirked and said, "Very good love," as she opened his paper and smiled seeing she'd gotten it right.

"Okay Cal, let's hear how smart you are. What am I going to order?"

"You're going to get salad and chicken," he stated with confidence.

"Cal," she practically scolded, "there are _seven_ salads on the menu and _four_ chicken entrees."

"But I am right, aren't I?"

And just as she was about to yell at him for not playing the game right that he had insisted upon, the waiter came over and asked, "Are we ready to order?"

Cal jumped in, "Yes, thank you, I'll have the half dozen oysters to start and the marinated Cajun rib eye for my meal, mate. And she'll have the mixed greens salad to start and the lemon pepper chicken for hers. And, could you bring out a molten lava chocolate cake for dessert once we're done with dinner?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Thank you very much."

And when Cal hazarded a glance at Gillian, she looked a little pissed, and a little impressed. So he flashed her his million-dollar, hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar smile.

For her part, she tried to not to smile or laugh when she said, "You know, you can be a real jerk sometimes. First, I think you don't know me at all, even though I was the one who said you wouldn't be able to guess, then, you go and do something—I'll begrudgingly admit—impressive. But, I guess I shouldn't be surprised with your round-about ways anymore."

"Leaves you all-the-more awestruck in the end, doesn't it?"

"I will not dignify that with an answer."

"You don't have to love," he said with a cheeky grin on his face.

But then he surprised her again when he stood up, held out his hand, and asked, "Gillian, may I have this dance? And maybe a few more after it?"

And she looked at him like she was really seeing all of him for the first time. Like it was coming together. Making sense. All the versions of Cal that she knew and loved were here tonight, converging, to make sure she had the best night of her life. That she was challenged, and entertained, and in charge, and taken care of, and happy, all at the same time. So she looked at him and said, "Of course," and tried not to sound breathless when she did.

As she put her hand in his and he pulled up and towards him he had the intense urge to kiss her. But he pushed it down because he didn't want to cheapen it knowing that others could be watching and scoffing at their public display of affection in the middle of the dance floor. He knows he would do the same. It just seemed tacky. So he pushed the urge down. And she sees this. Feels it. That he's about to kiss her, but holds back. She's not sure why though. But the thought doesn't linger too long because they're on the dance floor, dancing close, to a medium-paced song the brass band is playing, and he's spinning her around and then pulling her close. They danced, delighted to be in each other's arms, for a few songs until their food arrived.

Towards the end of the evening, as the waiter is taking their dinner plates away, Gillian says, "Do you think we could get our dessert to go, please?"

"Not a problem miss, I'll bring it right out."

And the look Cal's giving her when she turns to him is pure desire. But she knew it would be before she looked at him. She can practically feel how much he wants her.

When she sees that he doesn't know what to say, she says, "What? Maybe I'm in the mood for the same thing you are."

Then their waiter returns with dessert and the bill. Cal pulls out his credit card in haste and practically throws it at the poor guy, just itching to get out of this restaurant with Gillian. The two minutes it takes the waiter to come back are excruciating for Cal, but Gillian doesn't seem fazed. She's always been good about staying calm. He'd love to know how she's holding it together right now though. As soon as he writes the tip and signs the slip, he grabs he hand and the dessert, and drags her out of the restaurant and to the car as fast he can. Somewhere along the way they've thrown their coats on. He opens her door for her and then runs back to the drivers side, and she laughing at him once he sits down.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," she says between giggles.

And they speed off towards her place.

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**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! I won't leave you hanging after this one. There'll probably be at least one more chapter. Not for a few days though. I haven't written much fanfiction before, so any reviews are welcomed.**


	3. Chapter 3

As they're walking towards her front door, Cal's amazed that they're here. Not the house. But here. Them. And he gives himself some credit for not screwing up the date. And wonders how the night went by so effortlessly, all-the-while him being himself. And he's in awe for a brief moment at her ability to love who he is. Because so far, he hasn't met anyone willing to stay like she is. Even when he's at his worst.

But then he's pulled from his thoughts when—realizing that Gillian opened the door— she grabs the dessert bag from his hand and bolts for the kitchen. And he laughs out loud at her giddiness. Only a little jealous that it's over the gooey chocolate dessert and not him.

So he wanders into the kitchen after her. She has already plated the dessert and is popping it into the microwave to heat up the melty center. She stands staring at the microwave, bouncing onto her tiptoes to peer inside of the frosted glass door, tapping the waiting fork against her lips. And he's happy to see her so happy over something so simple. But he's feeling a little forgotten. So he walks up behind her and slides his arms around, starting at her hips and skimming until his forearms are overlapping her front and she's in a tight embrace, with his head resting on her shoulder. And she takes her free hand and rubs back and forth over his arms.

"Hi," he whispers in her ear, "Thought you forgot about me." And she can hear the smile in his voice. Then he kisses her cheek.

And for dramatic effect she pretends like the touch shakes her out of a trance, and she ads, "Hmm? What? Oh, you're still here," in as jokingly serious a voice as she can muster.

Cal lets go of her and takes a dramatic step backwards to slump against the counter with a hand over his heart and makes noises as if he's just been hit in the chest by some heavy object.

Gillian turns around to face him and rolls her eyes, but lets a chuckle out too at his flare for theatrics.

Then the microwave beeps, and he loses her attention again.

She can barley contain herself, he notes amusedly. She claps her hands quickly and excitedly a few times before she pulls the dessert out. Then she turns with the plate in her hands towards where he's leans against the counter and puts the plate down on it in between them.

And she's about to dig in when her hand freezes halfway to the plate as she pauses to look at him. As if she realizes that maybe she should get him a fork, or pay more attention to him. But she just smirks and says, "Well… go ahead. What are you waiting for darling?"

And she doesn't need any more prompting as the fork sails through the air and dives into the cake, the chocolate center oozing out on contact.

Cal can barley keep control of himself as Gillian moans when the delicious sweet hits her taste buds. And after a few more mouthfuls, he needs to taste the dessert, if only to learn more about what can make her moan like this.

So he asks, "mind if I have a bite love?"

Gillian eyes him suspiciously because she knows he's never had much of a sweet tooth. And she queries, "Are you sure you want some Cal? It's very rich."

In a mock affronted tone Cal answers, "Course I do," then adds with a devilish grin, "Got to know what gets you to make those noises."

And Gillian can't keep the blush off of her cheeks when she realizes she's maybe been enjoying the dessert too much. So she doesn't reply, but in an effort to stop him from saying anything else about it, she sticks the fork back into the tasty treat and scoops up a hearty bite for Cal. Then she takes a step towards him, and he realizes that more step, and they're touching. And suddenly he doesn't care so much about what's on the fork. But she proffers the cutlery as she stares him down, knowing exactly what's running through his mind in that moment.

He stops her hand though. And takes that final step. And they're only a whisper away from each other. And he wonders how he managed to wait all night to do this.

So he leans in to taste the dessert on her lips. And taste _her_. But at the last second she brings her arm up and sticks the fork in his mouth. And giggles uncontrollably at the look on his face. And the chocolate smudge across his mouth. And he's stunned for the briefest of seconds, because he was about to kiss her after all. And an evil grin spreads across his face as he lunges for her, but she sees his mind working and makes a dash for it. So they run around the counter once. And he's happy to chase her. But she stops after the first loop, because while it's fun to tease him, she's wanted him to kiss her all evening. So, a little breathless, he puts his hands on her hips. And takes a moment to feel the silk of her dress, and the curves that are _her_. Then he pulls until he can feel her against him. And he leans in excruciatingly slow, tilting his head slightly to the right as he moves ever so slowly forward, alternating between looking her in the eye and staring at those beautiful full lips of hers. And he wonders at his restraint. How he's managing to move so slow. But he knows it's because of her. Because he wants to know that she's sure. And he wants her to know that he's in her hands, and he'll do whatever she wants, and she can set the pace. Do any goddam thing she wants. And he stops just before their lips meet, breathing heavily along in unison with her. And she knows he's waiting for her, but she doesn't waver for a second. And right when he stops his forward momentum, she continues the motion. So it's as if there is no pause at all. And Cal thinks he could die happy right now with their lips finally connecting. And it's slow. Excruciatingly so. Especially when she bites down on his bottom lip. And then she's dragging her bottom lip over his, and now he has a chance to bite back. So he takes it. And then he hears it. That oh-so-glorious chocolate cake moan. And Gillian can no longer control her actions, because her hands find his hair and they're pulling. Hard. So hard the two of them break contact briefly. But wherever she pulls his head, she follows, because she just never wants to stop kissing him. And they're both satisfied—beyond satisfied—with just kissing. Because it makes them feel like teenagers again. That exhilaration that comes with connecting with someone for the first time ever. That you've pinned for from afar. Watched at her locker in between periods. Then finally got up the nerve to talk to. And you're both so nervous you can barely get the words out without both making fools of yourselves. And even a touch is electric. That's what this feels like. And that's why they're content right now.

When they finally break apart—only separating by mere inches—the dessert has gone cold. The once gooey center has congealed. But Gillian doesn't care. Because right now she so hot she's about to melt. And she leans back in and gives him a lingering smooch before pulling back and whispering, "how about we move this to the couch? Maybe pop in a movie?"

Still holding her close, Cal musters a rushed, "whatever you want, so long as we can make out like teenagers and ignore most of the movie," before he pulls her to the living room.

Gillian grabs whatever's on top of her pile of DVDs, throws it in, and presses play. Cal plops himself down on the sofa, back up against the armrest, and drags Gillian down across his lap. She leans against him and snuggles closer. Rests her head right underneath his, then reaches behind her and grabs the blanket that's lying across the back of the couch and drapes it over them.

One of Cal's hands hugs her closer to him, while the other finds her thigh, which is mostly exposed now that she's cuddled up to him in her dress, and rubs up and down over her smooth skin. And he doesn't need to do more than that, because everything is new, and it'll take him a while to get used to all of it. And he wants to go as slow as possible, and burn every part of her into his brain.

Long after the movie ends, they're still in the same position on the couch. Only now, it's nearly 3am, and they're barley awake. Kissing lazily. But they can't seem to stop. Eventually though, Gillian manages to part from him long enough to get out, "Cal, I think we should go to bed."

And he doesn't even question the 'we' part, just sleepily responds, "Right you are love."

Gillian takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom. And while she goes into her closet to find her pajamas and hang up her dress, Cal strips to his boxer briefs and climbs under the covers. Gillian returns a few minutes later in an oversized t-shirt and slips in next to Cal, spooning into his side and putting her head on his chest. And they're both barley under the covers before they're asleep. With smiles on their faces. Breathing calmly and evenly. Knowing that from this point on, it's the two of them. Together. And if tonight is any prediction for what's to come, it will be amazing.

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_So this is it! Thank you so much for reading. It took me about a week longer to finish than I wanted to, but sometimes it's hard to find time to write. I hope this final chapter doesn't disappoint. I know Cal is very fast/aggressive, but I just felt like he had the possibility of being different with Gillian. Anyways, this is my first multichapter, and I'm pretty new to writing fanfic anways, so I hope you like it. Please review! Good or bad. Criticism is welcome._


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